You might wonder why I'm having the Millennium Items basically etch themselves into Seto's skin rather than having him use them, carry them, like they are in canon. I worked out a bit of a hand-wavey reason in the text (the Items are claiming Seto, rather than Seto claiming the Items), but the short answer is much simpler than that: I thought it would look cool.

This story was first started, in its original form, when I was a kid.

And I had a kid's sensibilities.

I think, even as I enter into my late 30s, I find myself looking back on the ideas I had when I was younger, the things I liked, and I think … man. That kid had the right idea.

Verse One.

The mark of the Millennium Scales burned itself into the inside of Seto's forearm, opposite the Rod. He could feel the magic sear through his blood, and while he still didn't quite understand what that meant for him—he'd yet to settle down and test his limits with this magic, to figure out what he could do with it—he knew the important part: he'd won. The blessings of four gods walked with him now, and he wasn't sure how much he liked that, intellectually, but Seto couldn't deny that it felt pretty good.

He felt strong. He felt vibrant.

Mokuba was on his feet. "Niisama!"

Seto nodded in his brother's direction. "Sorry for how long that took," he said. He leaned over, holding out a hand to help Shadi to his feet. The Egyptian spirit, who might have once been a man, accepted the help; there was no sign in his fathomless blue eyes that he appreciated it.

Seto held up the hand that now commanded the Millennium Scales, looked long and hard at his palm. Could he see the magic in his veins? He wasn't sure. He saw something, but he couldn't be sure that it meant anything. It could just as easily be a hallucination.

Heaven only knew how familiar that question was.

All the same, Seto decided that it had to mean something.

He turned his attention over to Noa, who was adjusting the levels of various shelving units in the shop; he didn't bother with a hammer, but simply slammed into the shelves with the heel of his hand. Eventually Noa nodded, clearly satisfied with his work, and he turned.

"You look perky," Noa said, flashing a little grin.

Seto gave a nod in turn. "Noa," he said. "Good work, taking charge like that. It seems I've been underestimating you." He bowed his head solemnly. "It won't happen again."

It was as close to an apology as Seto was capable of giving a man he'd once considered a mortal enemy. For his part, Noa looked quite thoroughly stunned. His eyes went wide as soup plates, and his cheeks reddened; his little smirk slackened into a dumbstruck little smile.

As Seto passed him, heading for Ryo Bakura, he clapped a hand on Noa's shoulder and squeezed. "Part of this test involved learning to trust my . . . court," he said. "I realize now that I haven't considered you a part of that, and I owe you better. You deserve better." He locked eyes with Noa. "Brother."

Noa blinked several times, then nodded. "S'all good, Aniki," he said.

Seto turned to Ryo now, who still sat on the floor and looked deeply unconscious.

"So," Seto said, "what's this situation?"

Noa gestured. "Got him contained for the time being," he said, "at least as much as possible, considering he and Yugi are roughly on equal footing. I imagine you'd have better luck with that part now." He cleared his throat. "What's that, four? You're making quick work of this job."

"It's hard not to, when you have gods chasing you," Seto muttered.

Verse Two.

When Ryo Bakura opened his eyes again, they weren't his own; it was Bakari, the last witness to Kul Elna, who sat there. "So," he said, hissing through his teeth, "the gods' champion returns. Here to finish your work? Don't let me stop you."

Seto stood at his full height; if he'd been speaking to Ryo, he would have settled down to his level. Since it wasn't, he didn't. "What I'm here for," he said, "is my own business. As for champions, I only belong to one higher power."

He glanced over his shoulder at Kisara Mayer, who was standing near the door.

They shared a look, one filled with a silent understanding that they were linked together, chained together, by something deeper than happenstance. There was no breaking their connection now. They both knew it was stronger than that; they both knew that the queen of dragons commanded them.

"If you wish to differentiate yourself from your predecessors," said Bakari, "then break these chains. Let me take what is mine. You have the power to be done with this business entirely. That's what you like to do, isn't it? You want to be done with this whole circus as quickly as possible. I offer you a way to do that. Let me do what I've come here to do."

"What is it," Seto asked, flatly, "that you've come here to do?"

"Drag Shadi to Hell."

Seto grunted. "I don't think so," he said. "I have no affection for him, but he still has a purpose here. I don't claim to be too good of a man to not let you kill someone as payment for previous wrongs. I'm not. But for the moment, that's not going to happen."

"Lording yourself over others already, then."

"Are you not? You expect me to bend to your will. I have no reason to do that, no incentive, and so I'm not going to do it."

"You want my Ring, don't you? Give me Shadi, and you can have it."

"You and I both know that isn't how this is going to work. If it were that simple, Crawford would have handed me the Eye as soon as I showed up at his island, if for no better reason than to fuck with me. He hates that thing, he wanted to be rid of it, and he would have saddled me with it immediately if he could."

Bakari glared at Seto suspiciously. "You're quite confident about that."

"I know," Seto said, "because I won the damn thing. It's only fair that I glimpse into his mind after he invaded mine so flagrantly. He's lucky I didn't shove him into a card. Unfortunately, I'm a better man than I used to be . . . which, to circle back to the current moment, is why I'm not interested in helping you. Especially since you've seen fit to lie to me."

"Have you earned my honesty?"

Seto rolled his eyes. "I couldn't care less about earning anyone's honesty, yours perhaps least of all. You quite thoroughly overestimate your worth, Bakari."

Verse Three.

Seto reached out a hand, snapped his middle finger against his thumb.

Bakari, who'd just opened his mouth to speak again, to make some kind of biting commentary, stopped dumb. He blinked, stared, then seemed to collapse in upon himself; the world itself had double-vision for a moment, just a flash, and then a crack as a seam snapped in reality. Ryo Bakura was thrust back into wakefulness; he looked down at his hands, then up at Seto, blearily.

Bakari, the ancient spirit haunting the Millennium Ring—who'd made it his mission some thousands of years ago to extract vengeance for the crimes done to him by a royal court long, long dead—sat next to Ryo, in his own body, rendered manifest by the same magic he'd been chasing for so long. Ryo and Bakari shared a look. They looked down at each other. They looked up at Seto again.

"How did you . . . do that?" Ryo asked, thunderstruck.

"I wouldn't be able to explain it properly if I wanted to," Seto said, "because I don't know." He rolled up his left sleeve and showed the mark of the Scales, black and pulsing on his skin. "All I know," he went on, "is that I've been deemed worthy to use these."

Bakari scoffed. "And so," he sneered, "your first act is to butt into an agreement that isn't yours."

"Pretend you care if it will spare your feelings," Seto said. "It makes no difference to me if you clutch your pearls now that someone you've targeted has the power to hit back. I haven't forgotten that you once put your hands on my brother. If you want to talk about stepping into things that aren't yours, let's start there. You want to extract vengeance? Good luck waging war on the gods from the depths of Ammit's stomach."

Bakari scowled, his eyes burned, but he didn't speak.

"Besides," Seto said, "if you want to lord yourself over me, there is an easy way for you to do it. Place me into your arena." He pointed. Bakari didn't have to look to know what Seto was talking about; he placed his fingers almost gently onto the Millennium Ring; his eyes were gleaming with something like pleasure.

"You think you're ready to challenge me, then," Bakari said, almost seductively.

"It doesn't matter if I'm ready or not," Seto said. "What matters is the way forward, and you are one way forward." He gestured behind him. "He is another, but it seems to me that it will take time before he's ready to challenge me again."

Indeed, Shadi looked quite drained. It was like he'd just run a marathon, clad in his robes.

He wasn't present, and he didn't seem to notice that anyone was talking about him. He was as far away from reality as he'd ever been, even though he was in the room and so many people could see him. Even though he wasn't invisible, the way he tended to be until he wanted to present himself to people—he seemed to delight in surprising people, inasmuch as any vengeful ghost could delight in anything—it seemed like Shadi couldn't see anyone else.

Verse Four.

Mokuba took hold of his brother's hand as Kisara approached Seto from the other side. "Are you sure you're ready to do this, Niisama?" he asked. He sounded hesitant, tentatively hopeful, like he was counting on his brother getting the point and deciding to rest.

What could a day or two hurt, after all?

Wasn't he strong enough now, even in magic, to handle whatever Bakari might do?

Seto realized that, even as he resolved to push forward, his strength and energy wasn't important right now. Bakari wasn't stupid; he never had been. The likelihood that he would come after Seto directly was low. The problem was much simpler than that: Bakari was too unpredictable to let escape. The only way to be sure about this was to cripple him, and the only way to do that was to play the game.

Seto rolled his shoulders. "I'm here. You're here. Let's be done with this."

Bakari scowled; removed from Ryo's body, he looked different. It wasn't just that his skin was darker—as one might have expected for a man who'd died in the desert—or that his eyes were perpetually narrowed. Everything about Bakari was in stark contrast to his former host; he was shorter, but his body was corded over with muscle. His hair was longer, but Ryo's was better maintained. Scars covered Bakari's body at every angle.

Yet for all that, there was something about the pair of them, especially as they sat next to each other, both looking up at Seto, that made them feel connected all the same. Seto wondered if Ryo was descended from this man, like he was from Seti I.

Then Bakari's scowl slid into a grin. "If you're so eager," he said, "then who am I to deny you? I am, after all, a mere dirt-worshiping peasant. How arrogant could I be, to think I might defy a Kaiba of all people? King of Domino, high on his throne of steel and leather."

Bakari laughed quietly.

Seto didn't rise to the bait. Rather, he turned his attention to Kisara. "I trust you're well?" he asked softly; Kisara nodded. "Good. I would . . . appreciate it if you remained here to help my family. But you needn't stay if you would rather leave."

"I don't think I'm going anywhere," Kisara said. "I'm pretty sure it's important for me to be here. There is . . . something telling me I'm exactly where I need to be."

Seto smiled, then nodded. "All right, then," he said. Kisara nodded in turn. "Follow Noa's lead. He knows what he's doing. The rest of you take precedence over me. If you need to abandon me to ensure your safety, do it."

He held out his arms and felt the golden power pulse through his body.

"Careful there, Aniki," Noa said, "or somebody might make the mistake of thinking you're arrogant."

Seto grinned as he locked eyes with Bakari.

Bakari stood up, slowly, deliberately; the Millennium Ring gleamed hotly in the light of the afternoon sun. "I surely hope you're ready," Bakari said, "to face a graveyard."

"I've been prepared to die since I was nine years old," Seto said flatly; Mokuba flinched, but Noa smiled. "It's time to set aside threats and focus on action."

END.